


Becoming Ordinary

by WinterWarrior



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff, M/M, criminals being idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWarrior/pseuds/WinterWarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being ordinary is just a game to Jim and Sebastian.  Too bad it's a game neither knows how to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't You Wish?

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write about the misadventures of our two favorite criminals trying to be normal people. Hopefully in the future, the chapters will be funnier like I intend them to be??? Anyway, enjoy!

Most of the time, Sebastian Moran knew exactly who he was. He was a soldier, a sniper, a murderer. Right hand man to the most dangerous man in the world, second-in-command of an extensive and invisible private army and altogether, not a man that anyone in their right mind would ever want to mess with. And that was without knowing who his boss was.

But sometimes, Sebastian Moran sat in the dark and thought about who he wasn't.

He wasn't a man that would ever have a happy ending. He wasn't a man that would die of old age. He wasn't a man that would be able to enjoy the little things in life. Not anymore, not now.

Mostly, he didn't mind. His life was simple: follow orders and live, refuse orders and die. That was it. Easy to remember, easy to live by. And he had the express benefit of enjoying what he did, even if that did mean murdering people. He was well paid, and even though his boss was a gigantic pain the arse, Seb sort of liked him, too.

But...tonight was not one of those nights where he loved who he was or what he did for a living.

He sank even deeper into the leather sofa, slowly sliding sideways and laying across it. Jim would be home soon, another job completed right on time and without any problems. Hopefully. In the time since they had been home from the one single holiday either of them had ever taken, it seemed as if more things went wrong than right. And that included their already strained relationship.

Beams of light pierced through the dark room as the sun began to set over the city. One of them fell directly over Seb's face, as if to remind him that even the necessary things were sometimes uncomfortable. He threw an arm across his face and sighed, wondering just what the hell he was doing with his life. It wasn't that he was unhappy or unfulfilled...it was just that sometimes, he wondered what he was missing.

The door to the flat clicked quietly open as Jim entered nearly soundlessly. Living with a trained professional had certainly rubbed off on him in the worst ways. As usual, his boss entered without a word of welcome, not because he didn't care, but because he simply didn't feel the need to say anything.

Seb remained on the sofa in silence, neither welcoming the other home or bemoaning the rotten mood he had fallen into lately. If Jim cared, he likely wouldn't say anything. That thought alone caused Seb to grind his teeth together in frustration. Didn't normal people ask each other what was wrong in situations like this? How did normal people even live? It had been so long since he had even thought about 'normal' life, he didn't even know what it was anymore. And if he didn't know what it was, Jim sure as hell didn't.

Quiet steps in the kitchen and then through the hallway and into Jim's private room echoed around Seb's brain as he rubbed his eyes fitfully and tried not to be frustrated at the accepted lack of communication he and Jim usually shared. Surely normal people would be concerned? Seb didn't know, and it bothered him that he had no idea.

Minutes later, the other man padded back into the room, flipping on the lightswitch before stopping dead in his tracks. Seb didn't need to look to know what was going on. Jim stood there staring at him, an expression somewhere between lazy arrogance and mild irritation flickering across his face. In a moment or two, Jim would move on to things that occupied him more completely than moody assassins.

When the lights turned off and the sofa sank a little on the opposite end near Seb's feet, he was shocked enough to move his arm and crunch up to stare and wonder just what the hell was going on.

"You okay, Boss?"

"No. Surprised?"

"You always surprise me," Seb muttered, sinking back into the sofa and replacing his arm over his eyes. "Rarely in a good way."

"And you never surprise me."

Tense seconds of silence passed between them before Seb sighed and opened his mouth again, "What went wrong this time?"

"Oh this and that. The whole bloody fucking thing. It doesn't matter."

"You spent weeks working this one out."

"Brilliant deduction, Sebastian. I knew I kept you around for a reason."

Seb sighed and shifted slightly on the sofa to mask his growing irritation. Would it kill the man just to ask what was wrong with him for a change? And not just when it suited his needs? "Sherlock then?"

"Who else?"

"I don't know."

"You're fun tonight."

Abruptly, Seb threw his hands into the air, shaking an invisible Sherlock Holmes so hard his perfect fucking brain turned to sludge and oozed right out his ears. "Maybe I'm sick of hearing you bitch about Sherlock. It's always 'Sherlock this' and 'Sherlock that'. Why can't it ever be about something else, anything else?"

"You don't understand, Tiger," Jim said, a touch of anger coloring his voice. "And I don't expect you to."

"You're right, I don't understand. You know why? Because you never just sit down and talk to me like a normal person. It's always something else. For fucks sake, I have to ask how you're doing and I'm the one moping about alone on the sofa in the bloody dark."

"We're not normal, Sebastian. You of all people know that."

"But don't you ever wonder, Jim? Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to just... to just be ordinary?"

Jim's silence was enough to smother an army. And as per the usual, Seb instantly felt his mistake take flight in the air and transform into yet another chasm between them. Seb never expected them to have a normal relationship, and quite frankly, he didn't even think he wanted it that way. But some things just didn't work without a little mutual understanding, and that was something both were sorely lacking these days.

"Sometimes," Jim surprised him by whispering into the darkness. Then, an elbow pressed into Seb's legs as the other man leaned over, bracing his head in his hand. Sebastian shifted his arm to his forehead and peered at whoever this man was on the other end of the sofa.

"Really?"

"Really. But then I think, how could people like us ever be ordinary? We murder for our money and I don't know about you, but I sleep damn well at night. Ordinary isn't for men like us."

Seb fought against the slippery leather of the sofa and sat up, careful to to move his legs to disturb the other. What was he even supposed to say here? Ever since Jim had admitted to him that he was just a little bit tired, all Seb had wanted to do was to leave while they had a chance. It wouldn't be that hard, not with Jim's connections and Sebastian's skill at making people disappear.

"We could try, you know, to be ordinary. I, er, I never got a chance. Not really."

With evident sarcasm, Jim rolled his head over and gave Seb an 'are you fucking serious' stare.

"No, I'm serious. Just, I don't know, just little things. Little things that ordinary people do to be happy."

"Do you even know what normal people do to be happy?"

"Not really. We could look it up."

"When did you sleep last?"

"I don't remember."

Jim sat up and then leaned back into the sofa, letting his head fall backwards so that he could stare at the ceiling. "Me neither." A pause. "Is this what has been bothering you? Being ordinary?"

"We don't have to talk about it, Boss." Yes, yes it was exactly what was bothering him. But he'd be damned if he gave in and spilled it to a man who only asked out of obligation. If Jim was asking out of interest, then it was the first time it had ever happened. Likely the last, as well. That was reason alone to humor the man, just this once. "Yeah, actually, it is."

Another silence. Either Jim was working very hard to find something to say, or he didn't have anything to say on the matter. Either way, Seb was past the point of caring. Right now, he just wanted to go to sleep and forget that the conversation had ever happened. He finally knew why ordinary just wasn't an option for them. Jim couldn't comprehend it, Seb had no idea what it was, and neither of them knew how to do things that they weren't good at.

"Maybe you're right. We should try just...little things. Like maybe, instead of murdering people seven days out of the week, we could take one day for...other things?" A question? Was Jim Moriarty really that confused? Didn't matter much, Sebastian Moran was just as lost.

"Other things, fucking hell."

Quick and smooth as a snake, Jim stood from the sofa and began pacing. It was a miracle he didn't jump on the computer and try to figure things out right then and there. Mostly, Seb just thought that he was trying to hide the fact that he really had no idea what he was talking about. Slowly, the remaining frustration and anger melted away from Sebastian and he allowed himself to finally relax on the sofa. Maybe all he needed was just to tell him that he needed a little attention every now and again.

"It's settled, then," Jim said in a singsong voice, nearly bouncing up and down with barely contained excitement. "We'll make a game of it. Us against the world. We'll try to be ordinary every once in awhile. I'll even let you keep score."

"How the hell am I supposed to keep score over something like that?"

"Figure it out," the other said, practically skipping off to bed.

"Figure it out. Yeah, I'll figure it out. It will be easy. No problem. Fuck."

Seb rolled over and buried his face into the sofa, sorely wishing that he hadn't said anything at all. It would have been nice if Jim wasn't the one involved but because he was...

Life was a game to that man. How could they even try to be ordinary when they didn't even know what it was? The next few weeks, or at least until they failed miserably, would be interesting.

Seb just hoped that it didn't end the same way everything else had lately.


	2. Playing...games?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Seb make an interesting purchase in their attempt to be ordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sort of came out of thin air, so I don't know. It's a little silly, but you know, whatever. Some people actually enjoy the silly, fluffy stuff, so this is for you!

"Have you reconsidered yet?"

"I can't read minds, Sebby."

Sebastian grunted and flipped his book closed and tossed it onto the table. He rolled his head back on the sofa and looked out of the corner of his eye at Jim. The consulting criminal was seated in his chair cross-legged, laptop open, and phone resting on the arm of the chair. Even though he couldn't see the screen, Seb could see the light flickering as Jim changed tasks faster than normal men worked.

"Reconsidered this whole 'being ordinary' thing."

The click-clacking of keys stopped immediately, and Jim turned his dark eyes up at his assassin. "I haven't forgotten, if that's what you're asking." There was a cold, bitter edge in his voice. Sebastian knew that tone. That's how Jim sounded when they were approaching a delicate subject, a point of weakness in the armor the James Moriarty rarely removed. 

"Never mind."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't even know where to start?"

"Please. You're one hell of an actor. That's all this is - acting. Only you're not trying to kill someone this time."

"Don't be silly, tiger. I'm always trying to kill someone."

"And you have a computer, just search for the answers. The internet never lies, right?"

"That belief is why I'm the boss and you're the mook." But the light flashed again and his fingers flew over the keys with a speed unlike any that Seb had ever seen.

After a few moments of silence, Jim's face changed into something that Seb didn't think he had ever seen before. It was...confusion. There were many things that Jim didn't believe in, but he rarely had such a reaction. Usually, he was pleased that he had finally proven someone wrong. This was different. This was a world neither of the murderers in the room knew what to do with. And Seb didn't even know what the other man was looking at.

"Well?" he prompted, rolling over onto his belly and sighing relaxedly. Ever since they had decided that a break was in order, things around home had been a lot better. The best thing, Seb supposed, was that Jim was actually trying to separate his work life from his home life. 

Seb liked it more and more with each passing day. If this was what he was missing out on, then he had a hell of a lot to catch up to.

"These people are dull, Sebastian."

"What did you search for?"

"I put in 'what do normal people do?'..." Jim looked over the top of the screen at the wall opposite him. "Their shocking lack of intelligence is...bothersome. Most insist on drinking - boring. Others say that you should 'get out more'. I'm out all the time, so - boring."

"You sound like-" Seb broke off the sentence before he could finish it. He would pay for that later, even so. Luckily, Jim was so absorbed in the internet again that he might not have heard it at all.

"And then there's video games? What use have I for video games?"

"Killing people without the mess, for one."

At that, Jim perked up exponentially. Though Seb knew he liked the mess, and he especially liked to see Seb covered in the mess, there was something...alluring about the idea of killing while not actually killing. After all, so many other 'ordinary' people out there seemed to enjoy it. Maybe this would be a good way to step foot in the door of ordinary life.

"Done."

"Done?"

"Done. I've just ordered a 'Playstation'." Even the words were foreign in Jim's mouth. The only playing he ever did was with lives or knives or both. 

A week later, Jim tore readily into the box containing their brand new game system. What the hell were they even going to do with it? It took Jim a total of four seconds to set the system up and have it running. Seb rarely forgot things about his boss, but the other man's technical expertise was one of those things. Hell, Seb could barely change the settings on the telly without the manual. 

Five minutes later, they were all set up. The two men sat side by side on the leather sofa, Seb screaming on the inside and Jim all coked up on caffeine and candy. The controller was awkward and bulky in Seb's hands, and he didn't quite know how to hold it comfortably. A rifle or a knife? He knew how to kill people with those. This controller? Sebastian supposed that if he hit someone with it hard enough, he might be able to kill them, but it wouldn't be as satisfying. Jim would love the mess though.

Whatever they were playing lit up the screen with explosive - and unrealistic - gunfire. Men in uniform pranced back and forth with the worst posture Seb had seen from a gunman in years. He huffed and settled the controller more comfortably in his hands, then leaned forward on the sofa. It just seemed like the right thing to do. 

Meanwhile, Jim pulled both legs up underneath him and hunched over the controller, fingers flying over the buttons as if he was long acquainted with the controls. 

And then, he proceeded to learn the controls and kick Seb's arse all over the map. 

It didn't help that Seb just couldn't get the right feel for the damn thing. Everything was wrong. You didn't have to allow for wind and weather, or sit on top of a roof for four hours under the sun waiting for your target. The enemy was there, swarming all over the screen. Just how many bad guys did they have?!

Seb growled at the screen as he died again. And Jim just cackled, racking up a kill count similar to the one he boasted in the real world. 

"How are you so good at this?" he asked, forcing the words through clenched teeth and nearly pulling his shoulder out of place jerking the controller to avoid gunfire.

"Maybe I'm just better at killing people than you are, tiger."

"I highly - fuck you, arse hole, get back here where I can kill you - doubt that, Jim."

"Well, you're doing a splendid job, dear. Keep up the good work," the consulting criminal cackled at the screen as another enemy ate bullets. 

"I would love to find one thing, just one little thing, I'm better at than you. I thought for sure I would be better at being ordinary than you."

"Me too, but we can't always have what we want."

An hour passed before the two men decided that enough was enough. Jim was practically on top of the world, and Seb honestly didn't think he had had this much fun since that little thing on top of Bart's with Sherlock. At least one of them was happy. The last two hours had been hell for Sebastian, as even his shooting skills were put to the test. Of course, over and over, he failed. 

"How the fuck do people even play this for fun? It's nothing like real life. It doesn't sound the same, it doesn't look the same. You're having a blast, but that's because you like playing games with people. Honestly, I'm surprised that it took you this long."

Jim leaned back into the sofa and turned his head towards Seb, wearing that smug smirk. Without warning, he reached over and ruffled the sniper's blond hair.

"You're just mad because I'm beating you at your own game."

"No, you beat everyone at their own game. I'm just mad because you're better than me in a game at something you pay me to do in life. It's just... It's just stupid," he finished petulantly, every bit the sore loser that he always accused Jim of being. 

"Is this seriously what normal people so? Sit around inside all day, eyes glued to a screen, watching people die?"

The look Jim gave him would have frozen fire. "Tiger, that's what I do most days. Usually, they're real people."

"Right. It's different though. This is...I don't like it."

"It was your suggestion, if I remember correctly. I happen to like this particular activity. It's sort of mindless...helps me think, though. Just now, I'm fairly certain that I solved the issue with Mumbai."

Seb sighed. There was no winning with this man. He guess that this could be considered a victory, just because they had set out to be ordinary and actually succeeded. Hell, it was probably more ordinary that Seb was actually rubbish at a damn shooting game. 

He leaned forward and set the controller gently on the table, breathing deeply into the silence of the room. Though it had been a frustrating two hours for him, he actually felt more relaxed now than he did before. That two hours had been punctuated with small bits of chatter between the two of them. Mostly it was about things that didn't even matter, which was nice, because it meant they were actually talking to each other without thinking about anything else. That was rare, and suddenly, Seb began to see the appeal of the game system.

"You're going to keep playing, right?"

"Until I get bored with it."

"Maybe you can show me some tricks."

Jim raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Did I just hear you request something of me without saying 'please'?"

"Damn right you did."

"Well in that case, I would be happy to."

Seb grinned. Ordinary = 0, Jim and Seb = 1.


	3. New Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb's hair is too long for Jim's liking. But no one in their right mind would let James Moriarty near their head with sharp objects...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes my teeth hurt. I'm sorry in advance. Also, sorry for the delay! Because I don't particularly like the oozing, disgusting fluffiness of the chapter, it took me like 4 times longer to write.

Seb hummed quietly to himself as he put the kettle on. It was a nice quiet Sunday, he didn't have anything to do and Jim was locked up in his office all day, working on the Mumbai thing. For once, Sebastian was happy to be left to his own devices. Yawning, he stretched backwards and ran his hands through his hair, tucking the blond ends behind his ears.

A soft click from down the hall alerted the sniper to his boss emerging from his office. God, but he hoped the other man wasn't in a bad mood.

"Your hair is getting long, tiger," Jim said from where he had silently taken a seat at the counter. His hair was wild and there were dark circles under his eyes. Seb didn't think the man had left his office for more than a few minutes at a time in the last four days. Hopefully that was over now and things were settled.

Seb lightly brushed his bangs out of his eyes. So maybe it was getting a little long. Truthfully, he didn't mind. It had been short for so long while he was in the military that a little change was nice. He couldn't afford to let it get too long though. It was much too dangerous to shoot a rifle while the wind plays tricks with his hair.

"I suppose," he said, turning back to the kettle and pulling another mug from the cabinet. He cast a wary glance over his shoulder to find Jim studying him intently, dark plans circulating around his mind. Great. Whatever came next wouldn't be good, that was certain.

"Get everything sorted out?"

Jim made an affirmative noise, then tapped on the counter with his fingers. "Thomas and Janson will fill the supporting role."

Not enough information to really tell Sebastian exactly what was happening, but he would take whatever he could get. This wasn't something that he would have anything to do with. Probably. Unless someone fucked up and Jim needed a hole in someone's head, Seb got to sit this one out. Thank goodness, because he really had no desire to go back to Mumbai. Too many runs of bad luck there had left a sour taste in his mouth.

He just nodded and without another word, finished fixing Jim's tea. He had made it wrong only once, in the very beginning of their cohabitation, and had never made that mistake again. A week of sleeping outside was a good lesson.

As he turned and passed the cup to Jim, he sighed and tried to get back into the mindset he had been in only moments before. Just peace. A day of peace. No killing. No Jim yelling at him. No Seb yelling at Jim. Just quiet perfection. 

The sly, playful expression on Jim's face didn't quite agree.

"You really should get it cut."

"Eventually. It doesn't interfere right now."

"How do you know, hmm? It's long."

"I like it this way."

Jim tapped the edge of the teacup with a slender, manicured finger and raised his eyebrows. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at Seb.

"I really think you should cut it."

Seb leaned over the counter, dangerously close to Jim's face, and then turned his teacup around with a finger so that the handle faced to the right. "And I think I should leave it."

That's when Sebastian knew he was in trouble.

Jim blinked slowly and let his smirk unfold while turning his cup around the 'correct' way. Without taking his eyes off Seb, still within his personal space (if it could even be said that Jim Moriarty had personal space), Jim inhaled. "Do you really think you can trust me at night?"

Heavy moments of silence floated between the two men. Seb knew, he knew, that Jim never made idle threats. Though they were at home and work was mostly left behind, some things didn't change. Sure, Jim was over his 'make Sebastian Moran feel like shit' days, but every now and again he liked to remind the sniper just who was paying the bills. 

"No. I also don't believe that you're going to cut my hair in the middle of the night."

"And why not, darling? Don't trust me to keep my promises?"

"No," Seb said with a grin. "You just don't want to make a mess."

At that, Jim narrowed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, his brows low and scrunched together. Seb just sipped at his tea, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Either way, he was going to lose this battle.

-  
A week later, Seb's head was still intact and so were all his hairs. At first, Seb thought that he had won that battle, but as the days went by, he realized that there was nothing to win. Jim hadn't made good on his threat because he was distracted by whatever those fuckers Thomas and Janson were doing in Mumbai. Either they had ruined the operation big time, or unforeseen complications ruined it before they could. 

It wasn't that Jim didn't know how to find good help, because obviously he did, it was just that sometimes... Sometimes he didn't look at his help before he hired them. Thomas and Janson would grow into their usefulness...eventually. If they survived Jim's wrath.

In his pocket, Seb's mobile buzzed impatiently. He sighed and contemplated ignoring it for all of two seconds before grabbing it.

You should let me cut your hair tonight. - JM

No. - SM

I wasn't asking. - JM

Seb growled and flipped his mobile onto the sofa. Where it promptly buzzed again. And again. And again. Knowing that he wouldn't win, no matter what he did, Seb retrieved it.

I saw that. Don't abuse the things I buy for you, Sebby. - JM

Also, don't argue with me if you want to keep your head. - JM

I'm cutting your hair tonight. Whether you like it or NOT. - JM

Fine. I give up. - SM

You're no fun this way. - JM

Well, you're being rude. As usual. - SM

Please? - JM

Seb looked up from the screen, a frown lining his face. Please? Since when did Jim say please and actually mean it? Of course, maybe he didn't mean it. Or, maybe he did mean it. Seb didn't know which possibility was more frightening.

\- 

And so it was that in approximately the middle of the bloody night, Sebastian found himself tied to a chair in the kitchen. The clicking of scissors and soft scraping of Jim dragging his heels around the kitchen brought Seb to full awareness. How the smaller man had managed to get him into this chair and tie him up without waking him would forever be a mystery. 

Seb groaned. It might have had something to do with why his tea tasted a little funny.

"Jim, what are you doing?"

"I told you. I'm cutting your hair."

"Why am I tied up?"

"So that you won't leave."

Seb sighed and twisted his hands. There were many things Jim was good at. Tying up men with a professional interest in murder wasn't one of them. With little effort, he slipped his bonds and leaned forward in the chair. No hair on the ground yet, that was good. Then, he turned his head up and looked at Jim.

The consulting criminal leaned up against the counter, scissors loose in his hand. He looked even more tired than he did before, if that was even possible.

"Why?"

"Isn't this what ordinary people do?"

With as much sarcasm as he could muster, Seb gave Jim and the kitchen a cursory glance. "Ordinary people don't drug and tie up their boyfriends in the middle of the night to give them a homicidal hair cut."

"We do that."

"We're not ordinary. That's the point."

"So why are you upset, 'Bastian?"

That nickname again. The one that told Seb to be careful. The one that reminded him that Jim actually was a human with feelings, even though he tried so hard to pretend that he didn't have any and that he was more than human.

"You could have just...asked. Nicely. Without threatening me. You could have said, 'Hey, this is actually fucking important to me to try to do something nice for you so shut up and let me cut your damn hair' or something, I don't know. Is it really that hard to figure out why I'm upset?"

Jim opened and closed the scissors five or six times, chewing his lip and thinking. "Is that really how it works when you want something from someone?"

"Yeah, generally." Seb hesitated. "I think." He'd been living this weird lifestyle for so long, he didn't even know anymore.

The other man, the extra-tired, worn-out, homicidally bitter, consulting criminal pursed his lips, then raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to beg you."

"I'm not asking you to beg me. I'm asking that you ask instead of demand. You can order the entire world around, but in here, in this flat with me, there's no one to order around."

Abruptly, Jim turned and paced back and forth, opening and closing the scissors as he walked. Sometimes, murder really was easier. A few weeks ago, they wouldn't have ever had this argument. Jim would have told him to cut his damn hair and he would have, no questions. It didn't work like that anymore, it couldn't work like that anymore. Most of the time, Jim was so wired into his cases and crimes, he didn't even know there was a world outside of his computer. Meanwhile, Seb slowly discovered the outside world again, before and after hits. 

He missed the outside world, and sometimes, he even missed the people in it. He didn't want Jim to be one of them, hell no. That would never happen anyway. He just wanted a little equality. A little stability.

"Please, let me cut it. I promise," Jim punctuated the words carefully as he stepped in front of Seb, "I promise that I won't do anything stupid and I also won't hurt you. This time."

"Acceptable. Just...be careful. I've seen how you get with sharp things." He bitterly remembered one or five priceless paintings that had been ruined.

The next hour was...rather enjoyable. The soft surety in which Jim ran his hands through Seb's hair, carefully cutting away the bits he didn't like. Slowly, Sebastian lost most of his blond locks to the scissors, but it was worth it for the quiet peace between them. Now, if only he could teach the consulting criminal that asking for things usually works better...

"There," Jim patted his head gently, too gently in Seb's opinion, "all done."

The sniper stood and raised an eyebrow at the other man, taking note of how Jim shrunk into his shoulders, slouching. Together, they found a mirror where Seb could assess the damage.

And damage it was.

Chunky bits stood out at all angles, and no part was of an equal length. There was a conspicuous nearly bald spot on the side of his head, which thankfully could be covered with careful rearranging. It looked like a five year old had taken to his head as if it were an art project where participation was the only grade they would get. But...

Behind his shoulder, Jim almost looked...proud? 

"Like it?" he asked, sincerity ringing in his voice. Seb didn't get to hear honest sincerity from Jim very often.

"Yeah," he said, running a hand through it in despair. "Yeah, it's perfect."

With a small smile, he thought about the score. To the rest of the world, they would have been losing, but he chalked this one up as a win. Ordinary = 0, Jim and Seb = 2.


End file.
